


Stormy Weather

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Time To Take It All [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bathing, F/M, I think?, M/M, Makeup, Multi, Oral Sex, Sass, Spitroasting, Stockings, Undressing, Vaginal Sex, World War II, World War Threesome, almost zero angst, garter belts, kinktober day 30, peggy and bucky have plans, sassy Bucky, steve rogers is very tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: After two debriefings and nine days of slogging through the mud, Steve Rogers really just wants to pass out on the nearest softish surface. Peggy Carter has other plans for him.For the tumblr anon who wanted some stockings things for Kinktober Day 30! Hope this pleases!





	Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a million thanks to Ro for editing and supporting me and being generally awesome and awe inspiring with how damn good of a writer she is herself. Why do you take the time to hold my hand????? I'm so damn lucky!

Steve had survived three bouts of pneumonia. Had survived Scarlet Fever.

 

He knew what it felt like to be tired. Knew what it felt like to lie down in bed and think  _ wouldn’t it just be easier to stop trying to breathe? _

 

But none of that, none of that, really compared to what he felt these days.

 

Physically - physically, he ached, but he wasn’t tired the way he had been every day of his life before the serum.

 

Mentally, though… mentally, it was just as bad as those days when he had to do the math about whether or not to keep breathing. Mentally, these days, it was usually worse. 

 

Because it wasn’t just about Steve, not anymore. Not for almost two years now. 

 

Now, his calculations were about a group of men who were the bravest, most stubborn, fool assholes he had ever met outside of his own mirror. Now, his calculations factored in the entire world. 

 

Now, his calculations were a bit skewed because of a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed woman who would - and probably could - turn the world on its ass trying to find him if Steve got himself killed doing something stupid. 

 

So, he was tired.

 

He was tired even before the debriefing ended.

 

He was tired even before the  _ second  _ debriefing ended.

 

The first debriefing had been the typical painful attempt not to start a fight, or let Bucky start a fight. Or let Peggy start a fight.

 

Ironic, that Steve Rogers was now the one who had to stop those two from starting fights, when it felt like Bucky had spent their whole lives trying to keep Steve out of fights and Peggy Carter had a damn good idea of which battles she should fight and which she should ignore. Except, it seemed, when it came to people impugning Steve’s honor or questioning his decisions.

 

It was the one thing that would turn the level-headed, rumored to have ice in his veins, Sergeant Barnes and the ice queen herself, Peggy Carter, into snarling, sneering pugilists ready to rip apart whatever brass dared to suggest that Steve should have done something better or different. 

 

It was why there were now usually two debriefings, when the mission had been important enough to warrant it. 

 

So, after nearly two hours of Steve trying to keep everyone around the table from actually coming to blows, Peggy, Bucky and a handful of lower-ranking commissioned officers were released, so that only Steve, Phillips, a British general who had taken an immediate dislike to Peggy, and therefore, earned the ire of Bucky and Steve, and two American colonels who had spent the first briefing trying to prove they were smarter and more important than Phillips.

 

The second briefing, predictably, did not go all that well.

 

There were more questions about Steve’s choices - more questions about why Steve felt the resources of the Howling Commandos were best spent escorting refugees to Allied territory when they could have used that time and energy to track down stragglers from the HYDRA base they had destroyed and- 

 

And Steve, without Peggy and Bucky there, said some stupid things. Things that would have probably led to a court martial if he wasn’t Captain America, or if Phillips had been in a less aggressive mood that day. 

 

So, after another hour, Steve was finally released.

 

The Commandos had forty-eight hours leave before they went back to the Continent, and Steve spent the next hour tracking down his men and making sure they were either already starting to unwind and planning to be far the hell away from HQ during their leave, or made sure they made plans to do so. 

 

And then he went to track down Peggy and Bucky.

 

That took another hour, because Steve was an idiot and missed the note that Bucky had left for him the first time he checked their shared billet. 

 

But then he was walking into the lobby at the Savoy and feeling woefully out of place, even in wartime. Maybe especially in wartime.

 

The rest of London scrimped and struggled through bombings and wartime rations, but here, in the pinnacle of luxury, the black and white marble floor was still polished well enough that Steve could see his own exhausted reflection as well as if he had been looking in a mirror.

 

“May I help you?” the concierge asked when Steve just stood there staring stupidly.

 

“I’m here to see…” Steve pulled out the slip of paper Bucky had left for him and tried to decipher the cramped scrawl of Bucky’s handwriting, “Mr. and Mrs. Bowery.” Bucky clearly thought he was far more funny than he actually was, and Steve just barely resisted rolling his eyes.

 

“Ah, yes. They said a guest would be joining them. Room four-oh-nine.” The concierge slid a key across the desk to Steve, who took it.

 

“Thank you.”

 

The man gestured towards a bank of elevators, and Steve made his way over there, where an elevator operator escorted him to the fourth floor.

 

And Steve had to wonder how the  _ hell _ Bucky or Peggy had managed this. 

 

It wasn’t like any of them were getting rich fighting this war, or came from money to begin with. And spending a night at the same hotel where Winston Churchill had lunch seemed… exorbitant.

 

He walked down the hallway towards 409, hyper-aware of the fact that even though he was in his dress uniform, he hadn’t been able to shower or properly bathe in… eight?  _ Nine _ days.

 

When he reached the room, Steve pulled out his key and then hesitated.

 

He was tired, he was dirty, and he didn’t belong here. Not in this hotel. Hell, not even with Peggy and Bucky, brilliant and fierce and so strong it sometimes made Steve feel a little sick. 

 

After all, he had the unbreakable body thanks to Dr. Erskine. But Peg? Buck? They threw themselves into danger at every turn with their fragile bodies and only their smarts to keep them alive. 

 

But he was the one who got the praise, the medals, the-

 

Steve pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.

 

He was standing in the Savoy Hotel. And Peggy and Bucky were waiting for him. 

 

There was always time to indulge in self-recrimination. 

 

But now wasn’t one of those times.

 

He opened the door.

 

The room was lit with the soft glow of electricity, blackout curtains firmly pulled shut and shadows still flickering around the corners of the room.

 

And sitting on the bed, a gloriously soft-looking, enormous bed, were Peggy and Bucky.

 

They were almost entirely naked, Steve noticed immediately, and he had to slam the door shut after standing there staring at them for a full minute.

 

Bucky smirked at that, curled around Peggy, one hand toying with her dark curls while Peggy’s sharp little red nails traced over Bucky’s left thigh.

 

A thigh that was, like Peggy’s, covered in the shadow of a sheer stocking.

 

Both Peggy and Bucky were dressed - or undressed - alike. Bare from the waist up, but wearing wide black garter belts attached to stockings that covered their long, strong legs.

 

“What- what the hell is going on?” Steve managed to ask, not sure he wasn’t dead and hallucinating this. 

 

“James and I were waiting for you so long that we grew a little bored and I decided to dress him up. What do you think of him?”

 

Peggy lifted her hand to trace over Bucky’s strong jaw, turning his head so that Steve could see, quite clearly, that Bucky was wearing the same vibrant red lip color as Peggy, the same subtle rouge on his cheeks. Even his eyes seemed larger, more luminous, as though he had put makeup on them as well.

 

When Steve couldn’t even begin to form a reply, Peggy made a tsking sound.

 

“Oh dear. I don’t think he approves.”

 

“No!” Steve took a step forward. “No, no, it’s fine.”

 

“Just fine?” Peggy frowned and got to her feet, pulling Bucky up with her. She wrapped him around her back like a favorite coat, Bucky’s long, powerful arms draping over her smaller frame. “I’d say that he’s more than just fine.”

 

And he was. Oh, he was.

 

And so was she.

 

Standing like this, their legs looking so smooth and long, their eyes dark and lips so very red, they made the most beautiful pair Steve could ever dream of. He couldn’t think of any words to describe them, and he knew his skills with charcoal would never do them justice.

 

“You’re gorgeous,” he finally said - to Bucky, to Peggy.

 

Peggy smiled softly, turned her head and rose on her toes to press a kiss to Bucky’s mouth.

 

“There. I told you he would appreciate it.”

 

And Steve saw it then, the tension in Bucky’s shoulders, the sinews of his knuckles, the slight downward pull of his full lips.

 

“Oh, Buck. You- It’s not even fair for you to go and do all this. You’re already the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. Then you go and,” Steve gestured at Bucky’s attire, “you go and, just… It’s like the two of you are every fantasy I’ve ever had, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this.”

 

“Well,” Bucky drawled, finally speaking up after Steve’s assurance, “you didn’t murder Colonels Chrome-Dome and Cock-Eyed.”

 

“Or he’s already successfully disposed of their bodies,” Peggy put in.

 

“Without us?”

 

“Excellent point, darling. Steve, did you murder them?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes.

 

“ _ I’m _ not the bloodthirsty one. That’s you two.”

 

Neither looked even a little upset at being accused of it.

 

“Look, you two are… You’re something else. But I haven’t bathed in forever, and there’s no way you want me touching you smellin’ like I do.”

 

“Quite right,” Peggy agreed, and stepped away from Bucky. “James, why don’t you draw him a bath?”

 

“Anything you want, ma’am,” Bucky responded, lips curled just enough to be cocky, and Peggy gave him a look that was both fond and held a warning.

 

As Bucky walked past Steve towards the washroom, Steve stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

 

Bucky raised his eyebrows.

 

Steve reeled him in for a kiss, savoring the waxy press of his lips, the smell of Bucky’s clean hair and skin, the soft sound of pleasure Bucky made before he pulled away with a smirk and continued into the washroom.

 

Leaving Peggy and Steve alone.

 

“Shall I help you undress?” she asked.

 

It was something Steve loved, Peggy knew, and had no problem exploiting.

 

He nodded and she closed the space between them, coming to a stop inches away, and started on his tie.

 

From the washroom, Steve could hear water splashing onto porcelain, and  _ god, _ a real bath. He really had died and gone to heaven.

 

“How the hell are we paying for this room?” he had to ask.

 

“The same way we paid for the silk stockings.”

 

“ _ Silk _ ?” Steve had to reach down and feel Peggy’s legs. The sheer fabric was smooth and cool to the touch.

 

“Mm. Only the best for you.” Peggy pulled the tie free and started to unbutton his shirt. 

 

“Seein’ that Bucky’s been with me wading through mud for the last week and a half, I know  _ he _ didn’t win this in a card game. Who’d you swindle this time?”

 

“I swindled no one, Steven Rogers.” Peggy gave a sharp, playful twist to his right nipple and Steve sucked in a breath. “It’s hardly my own fault if men insist on underestimating me, is it?”

 

“No, it certainly isn’t,” Steve had to agree.

 

Suddenly, Peggy’s hands weren’t the only ones touching him.

 

Bucky was at his back, body radiating heat, strong, supple hands smoothing Steve’s jacket off his shoulders. 

 

Together, they finished undressing him.

 

“Well?” Peggy prompted when Steve didn’t move and instead just stood there naked. “Do you expect us to bathe you as well?”

 

He didn’t - of course he didn’t - but- but now that she had said it, there was nothing in the world Steve wanted more.

 

Peggy smirked at him.

 

“Please?”

 

Her eyes practically glowed at hearing that word from Steve.

 

“Of course.” She was so magnanimous, hands curving over his jaw, lips marking his.

 

The bath water was, if not hot, somewhere above room temperature, and Steve settled back into the claw-footed tub with a sigh of pleasure and relief.

 

The relief was very short-lived, and replaced by even more pleasure.

 

Bucky knelt by the foot of the tub and started to scrub Steve’s legs. Peggy started to wash his chest.

 

Steve groaned. 

 

They knew so well how to touch him. After nearly a year together, they knew each other’s bodies so very well, and Bucky had known what Steve liked for even longer than he had been able to  _ give _ Steve what he wanted.

 

He had to close his eyes, had to sink down into the water and let their touch and the water wash over him, and there was  _ nothing _ he had to think about except for how damn good this felt.

 

Steve must have fallen asleep.

 

When he opened his eyes again, his entire body felt clean and fresh and almost raw in the most perfect way possible. And Bucky was washing his hair.

 

“I’m never good enough to deserve all this,” Steve muttered as he looked for Peggy.

 

She was mixing up shaving lather.

 

“I’m feeling generous tonight,” she said as she sat on the edge of the tub and started to brush the shaving cream over Steve’s face. “Neither of you were injured this time.”

 

Bucky’s fingers dug into Steve’s scalp a little, but he didn’t speak up, and Steve sure as hell wasn’t about to.

 

If Peggy hadn’t noticed the shiny pink mark of newly-healed skin on Steve’s right thigh, he wasn’t going to tell her about it.

 

“Why don’t you do this part, James?” Peggy held a straight razor towards Bucky.

 

“You go ahead,” Bucky said, fingers once again digging into Steve’s scalp.

 

Above him, Peggy and Bucky seemed to engage in some silent contest of wills.

 

For once, Peggy gave in to Bucky.

 

She pursed her lips and then set about shaving Steve’s face, jaw and neck. She did it with precision and care.

 

It wasn’t the first time she had shaved him. She had even shaved Bucky’s face a few times. Had shaved Bucky’s chest and groin on one memorable occasion.

 

But Bucky had shaved Steve’s face before too, before the war. He had even given Steve his first shave, all those years ago when Steve’s peach fuzz was finally dark and rough enough to merit removal. Bucky had stood behind him, pressed so close Steve had to hold his breath to keep from squirming back against him, and Bucky had smirked and taken his damn time about it while Steve silently suffered.

 

Steve wondered why Bucky didn’t want to shave him now.

 

Not, of course, that he had any complaints about the way Bucky was massaging his scalp. Or the way Peggy shaved him.

 

“There,” Peggy finished. “Why don’t you rinse him off, and then we can get him into bed.”

 

She stepped away from the tub and walked towards the sink to rinse out the lather cup and clean the razor.

 

Bucky didn’t even warn Steve before he dumped water over his head and face.

 

Steve spluttered angrily, just barely able to make out Bucky’s smirk before the other man doused him again.

 

“C’mon,” Bucky said as he stood up, “get out of there before your whole body becomes a prune and you’re no good to us.”

 

Steve accepted the towel Bucky held out to him, glaring at him while Bucky continued to smirk at Steve while he dried himself off.

 

Peggy deposited the damp towel over the edge of the tub while Bucky set it to draining and then led Steve into the bedroom.

 

She pushed him onto the mattress, so that he was spread across the width of the bed, and climbed on top of him.

 

The feel of her silky thighs, her warm belly and glorious breasts pressed over his chest, made Steve shiver and arch up against her. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her down, pressing her entire body against his.

 

“I missed you,” he breathed against her lips before kissing her.

 

She hummed, either in agreement or approval, and kissed him back with all of the fierceness that he so loved about her.

 

Her lips parted and she nipped at his lower lip, just a flash of pain and then pleasure as she sucked on the spot, and Steve opened his mouth to her, tasted her and let her taste him, and she was so wonderfully hot everywhere. 

 

When Peggy pulled away at last, her lips were smeared from their kiss, red on the skin around her mouth, and her eyes were dark and wanton.

 

Steve felt his cock surge at just that look, at just the desire there. For him. 

 

He still couldn’t believe that this incredible woman, this strong, dangerous, passionate, beautiful woman, wanted him.

 

“I believe James is feeling left out,” Peggy murmured as she scraped her nails over Steve’s neck and down his bare chest.

 

Steve turned his head and saw Bucky leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, but looking far from unhappy.

 

Especially if the condition of his dick was anything to go by. He was already hard, the length jutting out from under the garter belt and framed so beautifully by his stockinged thighs.

 

“C’mere, doll,” Steve growled.

 

Bucky flushed at that, one of his incredibly rare blushes that made Steve feel like he had actually achieved something. But he pushed away from the wall and walked over to the bed, almost, but not quite, close enough for Steve to lick him.

 

Steve had to reach out and, upside down, grab Bucky’s ass and pull him closer, until Bucky’s dick rubbed against his cheek and Steve angled his head, arched back and managed to lick it.

 

Bucky hissed in a breath.

 

And Peggy -  _ Jesus _ .

 

Peggy scratched her way down Steve’s body until she found his thighs, and Steve trembled at her touch. She replaced her fingers with her mouth, licked over the marks she had made and then gave Steve’s dick the same treatment he was giving Bucky’s.

 

Bucky groaned, loud and rough, and it sent pleasure skittering along Steve’s spine. Bucky shifted, moved so that he was lined up with Steve’s throat, and gave a gentle thrust of his dick between Steve’s lips.

 

Steve clenched Bucky’s ass tightly between his hands, just barely able to feel the lacy tops of his stockings, and nudged him to encourage Bucky to do it again.

 

He did, and Steve’s mouth and throat were suddenly so full of Bucky’s dick that he was choking and gagging and loving every single inch of it. He struggled to breathe, panting and moaning, while Bucky stroked Steve’s chest and Peggy continued to suck him.

 

It was excruciating, so much sensation, surrounded by the two of them.

 

But then Peggy pulled away from him, shifted on the bed and-

 

And sank down onto his dick, letting him slide into her wonderfully wet, tight heat, and Steve dug his nails into Bucky’s ass hard enough that Bucky cried out.

 

Usually, usually, Peggy had a few clever words whenever they worked themselves into these positions. Sometimes Bucky managed to mutter something or begged. Not this time.

 

This time, they were all silent, except for Peggy’s breathy gasps, Bucky’s cries and groans, and Steve’s unintelligible moans around Bucky’s dick.

 

It was absolutely perfect, Steve’s entire world pinpointed down to Peggy’s cunt and Bucky’s dick as they used his body, and nothing else mattered except their pleasure, except finding a way to thrust up into Peggy that made her rhythm falter, except for opening his mouth and sucking down Bucky’s dick as he fucked Steve’s throat. 

 

It might have lasted only minutes, might have lasted hours, but then Bucky was coming in Steve’s throat, filling his mouth until Steve was choking and had to sit up so he didn’t aspirate it. 

 

The motion jostled Peggy, and she clutched at him with an ecstatic cry, the shift in position sending her towards climax as well, and Steve held her to his chest as he struggled to breathe and her body clenched around him and-

 

Steve came, and it felt like a damn miracle considering how tired he was. But he shuddered through orgasm clinging to Peggy.

 

Bucky was behind him again, pressed against his back, spent cock and silky thighs pressed close, mouth curving around Steve’s ear to lick and bite until Steve shuddered and arched back against him. 

 

“We got all dressed up for you,” Bucky panted, “wanted you to have something pretty to play with. But instead, we played with you.”

 

Steve reached behind himself blindly, groping for Bucky’s head until Bucky let himself be pulled in for a kiss.

 

“I got no complaints,” Steve assured him, and then kissed Peggy, who was still in that wonderful pliant, post-orgasmic state and smiled against his lips. 

 

-o-

  
  



End file.
